A year ago today, I said goodbye. Your daddy and I held your hand while you were so brave and fought so hard to stay with us. Your body was just too tiny to fight the infection. The doctors unhooked you from the machines and stopped CPR. They wrapped you in a blanket and handed you to me. As horrible as that moment was, it remains a treasure in my heart--it was the first time I could see your sweet face without the oxygen tube and it was the first time I could hold you wrapped in a blanket in silence... no machines buzzing and alarming. Your body was at peace. That day, many family members and friends rushed over so they could see you and hold you and kiss you one last time. Your Uncle Brandon said a prayer. Daddy and I gave you a bath and dressed you in new clothes. We took lots of pictures that remain on a camera that I haven't been able to develop. Maybe someday soon...
Everyone has told me that it will feel better in a year. Maybe I am not a normal grieving mommy but I don't feel better. My heart is still broken and a piece of me is gone. This morning I opened your memory box. I played with your soft lock of hair and I snuggled in bed with your blanket and your knitted hat that you used to wear every day. It's as close as I can get to you now.
Daddy and Carter and I went to visit you today. We decorated your grave for Christmas. It looks very festive. I think this may become a tradition and somehow that is comforting to me.
I love you Grayson. I want to hate this day but I can't. This is a day for me to remember you and that makes my heart smile.